


Quiet Afternoon

by ApatheticRobots



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApatheticRobots/pseuds/ApatheticRobots
Summary: Coming home to a silent house was odd enough.Coming home to his brother crying was even odder.





	Quiet Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> im not getting a beta reader and im also not gonna work on this anymore fuck you
> 
> If I catch anyone calling this as Stan//cest I'll personally come to your house and slaughter you

Coming home to a silent house was odd enough.

Stanley usually had to stay late for one teacher or another, so his brother would get home before him. Ford would either be in their room or on the couch, book in hand with the radio or television on in the background. Stan would walk in, his brother would greet him, and they’d continue about their day.

 

But this time, there was no greeting.

 

At first, Stan thought he might’ve been caught by one of the various bullies around town. He was about to run out when he heard the muffled sob.

 

He frowned, following the noise to their shared bathroom. The door was locked.

 

“Stanford?” He knocked. “You in there?”

 

“S-Stanley, you- I didn’t think you’d be home yet, I-”

 

Ford was not the type to cry often. When he did, it was silent and didn’t last long. He was barely affected afterward. The one thing he could never mask properly, though, was his voice.

 

“Ford? Sixer, what the hell’s goin’ on? Lemme in,” Stan said as he jiggled the doorknob.

 

“N-no, you can’t, don’t come in.” His voice was shaky.

 

“Unlock the door, or I’ll just bust my way in.”

 

“No.”

 

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

Stan took a few steps back, braced himself, then ran forward and slammed his shoulder into the door. It opened with a sickening crack. He must’ve broken the lock.

 

As his gaze settled on Ford, he felt bile rise in his throat.

 

His brother was curled up on the floor, clutching one of his hands to his chest. His shirt had a large patch of blood on the front, and more dripped onto the floor. A pair of their mom’s sewing scissors sat open and dirtied a few feet away.

 

Stan took a slow step forward, then knelt down next to Ford. As he reached out, Ford flinched back slightly.

 

“Stanford, what did you do?”

 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just-”

 

Stan grabbed the hand he was hiding, tugging it away from his chest. He winced at the slight gasp of pain Ford made. The area where his extra finger met his palm was cut and bleeding. Stan could do nothing but stare for a few seconds before he found his voice.

 

“Why?” His voice was raspy. “Why would you ever..?”

 

“I-I just wanted to be normal,” Ford whispered, wiping his eyes with the other hand. “Is that too much to ask?”

 

Stan scooted closer, wrapping his arms around his brother and pulling him into a hug. Ford leaned into it, breaking into a sob and burying his face in Stan’s shoulder. Stan ignored the blood that was getting on his shirt.

 

They sat in the bathroom for a while, the only sound Ford’s sniffling and some mumbled comforts from Stan. Eventually, Stan stood and pulled Ford to his feet.

 

“C’mon, Sixer. Let’s get this all cleaned up before Pops gets home.”


End file.
